Albus Potter and the Headmaster's Riddle
by A. Lynn the Poet
Summary: A Next Generation fic commencing where JKR left off, focusing on Albus, his cousins, and others as they adapt to the wonders and dangers of Hogwarts castle, making friends and enemies along the way, and maybe even finding love.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Albus Potter craned his neck as the blurry outline of his father's waving hand disappeared from view. With a knot of excitement tangling up his insides and a bubbling sense of anxiety washing over him, he collapsed onto a worn cushioned seat in the compartment nearest him, followed by Rose and Fred Weasley.

"Can you believe it?" asked Fred, joining Albus on the tattered cushion, "after watching our cousins and siblings go off to Hogwarts year after year, it's finally our turn." He stretched out on the velvet seat, propping his legs against the compartment window and unwrapping a chocolate frog. His brow furrowed. "Al, I got your namesake_ again_. 'Albus Dumbledore. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is

particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in

1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his

work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore

enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling. Dumbledore perished on Hogwarts grounds in June of 1997.'" He looked up. "You want it?"

"No, thanks," said Al, "I've already got about twenty." He left Fred to devour the jittery frog and began tapping his newly purchased wand against his knee, trying in vain to produce the vibrant sparks that had exploded from it just weeks ago. He looked up to see Rose hovering over him, a look of sheer terror stamped across her face.

"Rose?" he asked cautiously, setting his wand aside. He stood up and cautiously stretched an arm around her trembling shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"No!" she snapped, her blue eyes clouding with anxiety, "no, I'm not, Albus. What if we're put in Slytherin? You know how badly my dad wants me to be in Gryffindor. And as for mum, well, she isn't as vocal about it, but I _know_ she'd love for me to be a Ravenclaw. I'm their only hope; Hugo is bound to be a Hufflepuff. I can't disappoint them, Al, I just _can't_." She succumbed to quiet tears of frustration, wiping her eye with the sleeve of her robes and hiding her face behind a cloud of frizzy red hair.

Flabbergasted, Al patted her clumsily on the shoulder. "Rose, anyone who's willing to stand up to James on a regular basis is a Gryffindor in my book. Remember the time you tackled him?" She giggled, nodding and hiccuping through her waning tears. "It'll be alright; I'm sure all three of us will be in Gryffindor together," Albus said with more confidence than he felt. This slightly awkward moment was saved by the appearance of two boys whom Albus vaguely recognized as the Scamander twins.

"Hello!" said the slightly taller of the two, extending a sun-baked hand to shake Albus'. "I'm Lysander. I think we've met once or twice; our parents are close friends. This is my brother, Lorcan."

"Hello," said Lorcan, smiling in a forced manner that slightly disconcerted Albus.

"Er, nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Albus -- call me Al. This is my cousin, Fred, and my other cousin, Rose. We're all first-years. What about you?"

"We're first years, too!" Lysander exclaimed. "I just know I'll be in Gryffindor, and Lorcan will be, as well."

"But, Lysander," Lorcan protested, "when mum stewed the bogies of our Augurey, she discovered that I'll --"

Lysander looked at Albus, Rose, and Fred apologetically. "He still believes in our mum's barmy superstitions," he explained. "Anyway, I'll be back later. I saw one of our neighbors in a nearby compartment." And with that, he strode from the room.

"I don't really want to be in Gryffindor," Lorcan confessed when Lysander had left. "I'd much rather be a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw. Mum says you can lull the Sorting Hat into a trance with ancient Gaelic chants, and I've been practicing..." he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"You don't need to go to all that trouble," Albus assured him, "my dad says you can just _ask_ the Sorting Hat to put you where you want to go."

"Really?" asked Lorcan excitedly.

"Yeah," said Albus, grinning.

A plump woman knocked on their compartment window and peered through the door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked kindly.

"Yes!" shouted Lorcan. "Three boxes of Ice Mice, four bags of Bertie Bott's, six chocolate frogs, and a jelly slug." He stuffed his gold in her hands and claimed his armful of sweets. When he saw Albus, Rose, and Fred looking at him with amusement, a playfully cross look danced across his face. "I've a bit of a sugar addiction," he confessed, shoving the jelly slug into his mouth.

"Is that so?" muttered Rose. "Er, I'll just have an acid pop, please." she said politely. Albus bought a few boxes of Bertie Bott's, but Fred didn't buy anything. "I've got a stash in here," he said, patting his trunk with a wink.

For the next few hours, the four of them sat in contentment, consuming their candy and swapping stories of their performances of accidental magic. It wasn't until much later, when they were told to change into their robes, that Lysander reappeared.

"Where've you been?" asked Lorcan, looking his twin up and down suspiciously, "your robes are torn and you've a welt on the side of your face!'

"Ah, yes, that." said Lysander. "Well, a bunch of Slytherins thought they knew more than I did about Quidditch, and..."

"All that over _Quidditch_? " Lorcan asked incredulously, "Lysander, you can't get in trouble the first day of Hogwarts, you'll draw..." He looked to Albus, Rose, and Fred and whispered roughly, "_attention_ to us. Attention we don't need."

A look of comprehension dawned on Lysander's face. "Oh," he said flatly. "Excuse us." The pair of them hurried from the compartment, leaving a trio of perplexed faces in their wake.

The Hogwarts Express slowed to a crawl, and a deep voice boomed over the loudspeaker, "Hogsmeade Station. Everyone out."

"This is it!" Albus shouted, rushing to lift his trunk, "we're here." As he and the other students exited the train, as he gazed out across the vast Hogwarts lake and up into the twinkling nighttime sky, he felt his excitement and his apprehension battling for the position of prime emotion. He gulped. So far, apprehension was winning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The gargantuan castle loomed before them, silhouetted against the inky black heavens. Albus gazed upwards, awestruck by its grandeur. "It's beautiful," whispered a delicate-looking girl with long blonde hair, and Albus couldn't help but agree.

"Firs' years, follow me," called a gruff, familiar voice.

"Hagrid!" Albus cried delightedly. The half-giant beamed down at him and his cousin. "Hello there, Albus, Rose," he said, clapping a hand on their shoulders, causing the pair to wince with the impact. "How was yer summer? Are you lot coming 'round for tea this Friday?"

"Yes, we are, and it was wonderful," said Rose primly, dusting off her robes. "Did you have a nice vacation, Hagrid?"

"Aye," said Hagrid, "Olympe and I spent the time on safari looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks with your Auntie Luna and her family."

"Not you, too," Rose said in dismay. But Hagrid didn't hear her; he had already lumbered off to herd the other first years into the boats that would take them to Hogwarts Castle, their sorting, and their fates.

"C'mon," said Albus, spotting an empty boat, "let's go in this one." He and Rose climbed in and were soon thereafter joined by a proud-looking girl with coffee-colored skin, and the pale girl whom Albus had spotted earlier. As their boat drifted toward the castle, they passed Fred Weasley in his, chatting eagerly with Lysander, Lorcan, and Alice Longbottom, Neville's daughter. Albus waved to the four of them, and turned in time to hear the dark girl introduce herself as Ariella Thomas. The smaller girl appeared too nervous to say much of anything.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Rose asked her kindly, anxiously running her fingers through her mass of red curls.

"Yes," squeaked the girl, "my sister, Anna, is a first year as well, and I have an older sister in Ravenclaw and an older brother in ... Slytherin," she said, turning pink.

"There's nothing wrong with being in Slytherin," Albus said loudly, for his own benefit as much as hers, and she smiled gratefully at him. "I'm Albus."

"I'm Beatrice," she replied. "Do you have any family members here, Rose?" She looked confused as Albus and Rose broke into peals of laughter. "I'm related to practically half the school," Rose explained, "so is Albus."

"What's your surname?" Ariella asked, a look of comprehension beginning to dawn on her face.

"Mine's Weasley," Rose responded, "and his is Potter."

"Not Harry Potter's son?" Beatrice asked. "My father talks about him all the time. I think our parents went to school together."

"My parents went to school with yours as well," said Ariella. "I think my dad and mum have been 'round to your place a few times."

"Oh," said Albus awkwardly, "all right." He was not quite sure what to make of this. He had always known that his dad was a very successful, very popular auror, but he had never quite understood what was so special about him, and why everyone seemed to know his name.

Minutes later, Albus felt their boat bump against the lake shore. This was it. This was Hogwarts. He followed the stream of other first years filing into the castle, too nervous to do anything but allow himself to be herded into the Great Hall.

His brother, his father, and his mother had all talked at length about the utter sense of awe that spread over them when they first glimpsed the Hall's vast ceiling, but none of them had managed to do justice to its true glory. Its splendor was enough to distract Albus from his nerves, and enough to silence even Rose.

A very old, very wrinkled wizard stood on a table before them, and cleared his throat for their attention. "Welcome to Hogwarts!" he squeaked. "My name is Professor Flitwick, and I am your Deputy Headmaster. In just a few moments, the Sorting ceremony will begin, and you will be placed into one of four houses. Your house is like your family; and at the end of each year the House Cup is awarded to the house with the most points. The four houses here at Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and the Sorting Hat will determine which of those four is your best fit. Let the Sorting commence!"

"Accio stool! Accio hat!" he cried, and the first years gasped as a frayed black hat soared forth, coming to rest on a three-legged wooden stool. The chatter at the surrounding tables died down as everyone in the Hall gazed expectantly at the patched hat. Minutes later, nothing happened.

"That's strange," muttered Professor Flitwick, and the older students began to murmur amongst themselves. "Well, students," said Flitwick, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow. "It appears that the Hat doesn't have a song for us this year."

He hastily attempted to silence the outcry that was rapidly arising from around the Great Hall. "Now, now," he said, "this has happened once or twice before, and it's absolutely nothing to worry about. We will proceed with the ceremony as planned." He pulled a roll of parchment from the pocket of his robes and proclaimed, "Boot, Kirk".

A boy with dark blond hair and a prominent chin strode confidently to the stool and allowed Flitwick to drop the hat over his eyes. Just a minute later, the hat yelled, "Ravenclaw!" and the Ravenclaw table erupted into applause.

Albus turned his attention away from the sorting and gazed toward the staff table. Hagrid met his stare and winked, nudging Neville, who gave him a reassuring smile and whispered something in Hagrid's ear. A portly man in very fancy dress robes sat beside Hagrid, drinking from his goblet and watching the proceedings with blood-shot eyes. Next to Neville was a stocky man whom Albus recognized as Oliver Wood, the famous Puddlemere United keeperwho was apparently serving as Hogwarts' flying instructor.

Albus returned his attention to the Sorting and watched as _Krum, Yordana_ became a Gryffindor and Alice Longbottom became a Hufflepuff. He clapped extra hard for Alice; he knew her well and thought she would do well in Hufflepuff

"MacMillan, Anna," Flitwick called. Beatrice's sister stepped forward, brushing her curly hair from her dark eyes. The hat had barely touched her head before it shouted that she belonged in, "Gryffindor!"

"MacMillan, Beatrice," said Flitwick. The girl stepped forward, trembling so badly that she had trouble making her way to the stool unassisted. Albus crossed his fingers for his new friend. The Sorting Hat sat on her head for thirty nerve-wracking seconds before announcing that her rightful house was "Ravenclaw!"

"Malfoy, Scorpius," Flitwick said calmly, but a flicker of resentment in his eyes betrayed his less-than neutral feelings for the boy. All around the hall, malicious whispers snaked their way around the house tables.

"Fat lot of nerve those Malfoys have, sending their son here," a tall Gryffindor girl whispered angrily, "why don't they just send him off to Durmstrang, where he belongs."

Albus watched Scorpius with interest; the young Malfoy was the first student thus far who hadn't shown a single sign of anxiousness. Indeed, it was with great calm that Scorpius Malfoy settled himself upon the stool, gazing at his fellow students' unfriendly faces with an air of confidence and superiority.

"Slytherin, no question," Rose muttered darkly. "Dad said the hat had barely touched Draco Malfoy's head before shouting that he belonged in Slytherin."

Flitwick roughly dropped the Sorting Hat on Scorpius' head, and Albus watched the boy curiously. A minute passed, and the hat still hadn't given any indication of reaching a decision. Scorpius' cavalier attitude was quickly deteriorating. His eyes were screwed up tightly, and he was fiercely whispering something Albus couldn't hear. After another minute and a half, the Hat finally said, "Slytherin." in a dull voice that Albus hadn't heard it use before. Hardly anyone clapped, and Scorpius made his lonely way toward the Slytherin table, where a large boy with stringy hair patted him roughly on the back.

"Perkins, Sylvia," Flitwick called. Albus' heart leaped into his throat. He was next. _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, NOT Slytherin,_ he thought to himself, biting his lip so roughly that it bled. The applause for Sylvia Perkins echoed in his ears, and at last, Flitwick called his name.

"Potter, Albus."

Dead silence washed over the hall. Every face was staring at him expectantly, watching as he slowly crossed to the stool and watched darkness descend upon him as Flitwick lowered the hat over his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Albus Severus Potter," whispered the voice of the Hat, "I was wondering when our paths would meet."

"Er, hello?" said Albus quietly, staring at the Sorting Hat's dark interior. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, yes, quite," the Hat replied, sighing deeply. "Very well, then. Where to put you? You're strong, determined, loyal. You would certainly make an excellent Hufflepuff. Then again, you have a fierce streak that's more characteristic of Gryffindor house. You're more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, and you've got a sense of curiosity that will get you in trouble if you're not careful -- both qualities of Ravenclaws. And yet ... such ambition, such deep-rooted ambition! You would make an excellent Slytherin, Albus Severus Potter."

Albus' heart skipped a beat. "Not Slytherin," he hissed frantically. "Anything but Slytherin."

"Ahh," the Hat said slowly. "You're not specifically requesting to be put in Gryffindor, as your brother did, and your uncle before him?"

"N-no," Albus stammered. "I mean, I know my mum and dad will be proud of me no matter where I end up. Did James really ask to be put in Gryffindor?"

"Perhaps _demand_ would be a more accurate word," the Sorting Hat chuckled. "He told me that if I didn't put him in Gryffindor, he would rip me in half. While that's definitely a rather Slytherin-like statement to make, it also shows bravado that many Gryffindors possess. The two houses are much more similar than people realize, Albus."

Albus bit his lip. "Look," he reasoned, "maybe Slytherin isn't as bad as people say it is. But my dad always tells me that it's our choices that define us, and I choose to believe that it's not where I belong. So, put me where you will, but please take that into account."

"Very well reasoned," mused the Hat. "Your logic will do you well in ... RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table erupted into tumultuous applause, but before Albus could allow the Sorting Hat to be removed from his head, he had to ask it one more question.

"Er, Hat?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, my boy?" it responded.

"Why didn't you sing this year?"

"In due time, Mr. Potter," the Hat responded, "in due time."

Albus nodded his understanding and slid from the stool, handing the Sorting Hat to Lorcan, who was almost immediately sorted into Ravenclaw as well.

Albus and Lorcan sat and watched as Lysander and Ariella were both sorted into Gryffindor, and a shaking _Thompson, Eliot_ was placed in Hufflepuff.

"Weasley, Fred," Flitwick announced. Albus watched as his cousin trotted to the stool, only to be sorted into Gryffindor just a minute later. "I knew it!" Albus told Lorcan jovially, applauding with all his might.

Finally, it was Rose's turn. Albus crossed his fingers for his favorite cousin. Much as he wanted her to be in Ravenclaw with him, he knew that Gryffindor was where she belonged, and the Sorting Hat agreed.

Now that everyone he recognized had been sorted, Albus turned his attention away from the ceremony and began to chat with the Ravenclaws in his area.

He waved hello to his cousins Lucy, Dominique, and Molly, and smiled as he met James' gaze across the Hall. For the first time in his memory, Albus caught a glimpse of respect in his brother's eyes, and he raised his goblet in recognition of their newfound equality.

Minerva McGonagall, the school's Headmistress, stood on shaky knees and announced the commencement of the opening feast. At once, plates and plates of steaming food appeared on all the House tables. Albus' mouth watered as he piled mashed potatoes, steamed chard, and fresh biscuits onto his too-small plate, grinning as Lorcan gave himself generous portions of treacle tart, black forest pudding, and jelly-filled pastries but left the main courses untouched.

A boy whom Albus recognized as Kirk Boot extended his hand across the heaping plates of food to take Albus by the wrist and shake his whole arm with unnecessary enthusiasm.

"Albus Potter, right?" he said cheerfully Albus barely had time to nod his head before Kirk continued. "The name's Kirk Boot. I'm extremely happy to be in Ravenclaw, aren't you? I really think it's the superior house. My dad was in Ravenclaw. He's going to be so proud! He was a Prefect. D'you reckon I'll be a Prefect? I hope so." He said this all very fast, and Albus blinked at him rather blankly.

"Er, sure," he said carefully. Kirk beamed. He opened his mouth as if to say more, and Albus hastily turned away. His eyes wandered across the Great Hall, from the Hufflepuff table where everyone was either grinning happily or sitting with a demeanor of great calm, to the Gryffindor table where many of his cousins were in a raucous yet good-natured debate, and finally to the Slytherin table.

Scorpious Malfoy was the only Slytherin not engaged in conversation, though it was not for lack of effort on his housemates' part. He sat alone, staring at his hands. Albus continued to stare at him, and at last the blonde's eyes met his. Scorpius regarded him without any hint of malice, gave a curt nod, and returned to his supper. Albus returned his attention to the Gryffindor table just in time to hear a hush fall over the Hall as McGonagall stood and cleared her throat.

"Good evening, students, new and old," she began, "welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. I thank you for your attention; I understand the night sky is a brilliant shade of indigo at the moment." A few first years gasped; apparently they hadn't previously noticed the ceiling's transparent nature. After some snickers had subsided, McGonagall continued. "I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name _should_ suggest, forbidden. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, too, are banned," she paused as the house tables groaned in unison. "Finally," she said, sniffing disapprovingly at the dissenting noise, "I'd like to introduce you to the newest addition to our faculty: Professor Emilla Fercastus, back from an extended sabbatical in Greece, will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. I'm sure you will treat her with the amount of respect she deserves. The feast is dismissed."


End file.
